As The Crow Flies
by jibbsloversunited
Summary: A blend of fact and fiction for an AU. From the collection of elflordsmistress.
1. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

I'll start with the fact that this is one of the lost stories – and celebrate the fact that it was found. Then I'll add that although it is an AU, it was written in _early 2008_ - when Jenny was still alive and on the show.

So, as you read, you will have to think in terms of characterization for _that_ time period.

Now, moving on to the story itself, I had taken the liberty of combining fact and fiction for this story. Using something that really happened as a backdrop – and dropping Jen and the rest of the NCIS characters into the mix.

**The real part:**

On June 1st 2007, _Pacific Partnership 2007_ was officially launched when the _USS Peleliu_ left Pearl Harbour. It was a four month mission that brought together military and non-military medical personnel, and a number of non-governmental organizations. Its purpose was to bring humanitarian assistance programs to various countries on the Pacific Rim. On August 22rd, SecNav was in the Solomon Islands for a _Project Handclasp_ awards ceremony.

**The fiction**:

Jen has just been visiting the Far East Field Office in Yokosuka (Japan) and, at SecNav's request, has come to the Solomon Islands to participate in the ceremony.

A morale-booster if you like. And a compliment. McGee has been travelling with her. Not as protection detail. More as a perk really. He never seemed to go anywhere in the show in those days.

When the story opens the ceremony is over and they are getting ready to go home On SecNav's private jet.


	2. Leaving On A Jet Plane

**Notes:**

The **USS Kitty Hawk** is a super carrier. In early 2008 she was operating out of Yokosuka, Japan – where the NCIS Far East Field Office is located.

The **Growler** is a two-seater Super Hornet.

**Valiant Shield** was the largest exercise in the Pacific in 2007. Held in the Guam operating area, it included 30 ships, more than 280 aircraft, and more than 20,000 service members from the Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard.

* * *

"How giddy is he?"

Jen laughed into her phone.

"I don't think he's come down from the clouds since he came back from the Kitty Hawk. Apparently he went up in a Growler on the last day. This was a nice idea, Jethro. I wish you could see the look on his face."

"Seemed like a pity to have him playing war games on his computer when he could have been doing the real thing."

"How many markers?"

There was a brief pause before Gibbs admitted, "a lot."

"I can assure you it was worth it every one," she said as she looked over to where McGee stood talking animatedly to a member of SecNav's staff.

No doubt enthusing about his participation in Valiant Shield.

"He's a good kid."

"Yes he is."

"Saw you on TV earlier. You were all over ZNN."

"Really? Not SecNav?"

"Just you. Wowing the troops. Di Nozzo taped it for you."

"How's the agency, Jethro?"

"Was wondering when you'd get round to that" he said; and she could feel the smile stretch all the way to the Pacific. "I mostly managed to keep my dignity around your precious sister agencies. Cynthia insisted. Thought you might appreciate it."

"So the Agency ... "

"Is fine, Jen. Haven't diced it up and given it to the three-letter boys. Yet."

"And how are _you_?"

"Looking forward to returning the reins of power."

"Is that all you're looking forward to?" she asked, her voice taking on a gentler inflection.

"Nope."

She smiled to herself at that.

"I _will_ make it up to you, Jethro," she said in a whisper as McGee slid into the seat beside her; an indication that they were getting ready for take off. "Right, we're leaving."

"I'll leave the light on for you," Gibbs replied before severing the connection.

Jen put her phone into her handbag and smiled affectionately at her young agent.

"Ready to go home?"

He nodded.

"Director?"

"Yes, McGee?"

"Thank you."

"Thank Gibbs," she said, patting his hand. "He's the one who made it happen. I just approved it."

"Really?"

The way his eyes lit up warmed her heart because she hadn't thought it was possible after all he'd seen and done over the past couple of days. But then Jethro always had been very good at conveying affection for his agents when they least expected it; and in varying forms of unorthodoxy.

She found she was very glad none of that changed.

"Really," she said with a smile. Fastening her seatbelt as the engines came to life.

As they taxied along the runway Jen settled back into her seat and looked out of the window one last time. Making a mental note to return as they rose from the ground.

Suddenly McGee touched her sleeve.

"Something's wrong," he said, his voice rising slightly in pitch. "The landing gear isn't retracting."

Jen looked round. Nobody else seemed worried.

"Are you su-"

She was cut off by what sounded like a shot from the front of the aircraft, and instinctively reached for her weapon.

"I wouldn't do that," a voice behind her said. She caught sight of McGee stilling in her peripheral vision, as the barrel of a gun touched the back of his skull.

They stared in what seemed like slow motion as SecNav rose from his seat a few rows along.

It was unclear exactly what happened next, but before Jen could even hope to make a situation assessment, people lunged trying to protect him.

At which point everything went to hell in a handbasket.

"Down, McGee!" she shouted, taking advantage of the momentary confusion to push him him down and take out the person behind them.

"We're going back down," Tim hissed.

"Stand up!" an accented male voice ordered.

McGee stepped out into the aisle. Jen beside him.

The man looked over at this dead companion and then at the gun in Jen's hand. He backhanded her without so much as moment's hesitation; the heavy ring on his finger tearing into her skin. McGee caught her as she staggered backwards, blood from her split cheek staining both their clothes.

"Naseer!"

"What?" he replied, eyes brimming with hate still on Jen.

"We have a problem," his comrade replied in what Jen identified as _Dari_.

Naseer grabbed a rough hold of Jen and pushed her in front of him. Together they looked down at the lifeless body of Phillip Davenport. 75th Secretary of the Navy.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," the older man said. Cursing before turning his wrath onto Jen again. As he made to strike her, one of her protection detail sprang from his seat.

Only to be met by a bullet to the chest just as he reached her.

He crumpled onto a seat, clutching his wound.

"Sit!" Naseer spat, pushing Jen into the seat next to him. Communicating to his partner in one deft gesture that he needed to keep his weapon trained on both of them.

"If she moves ... kill her."

* * *

**Additional note:**

**Dari **(Persian/Farsi) is one of the official languages of Afghanistan.


	3. Press Coverage

**Author's Note:**

Since this is such a short chapter, I thought I'd post twice today.

* * *

Gibbs was working in his basement when the call from Tony came in.

"Boss ..."

And just from the tone of his voice he knew that something was very wrong.

"I think you'd better turn on your TV," was all the agent said.

Gibbs was upstairs in seconds.

ZNN was broadcasting live from the deck of the _USS Peleliu_.

"It is unclear exactly what is going on," a reporter was saying. "The pilot of the SecNav's private jet requested an emergency landing just a few minutes after take off from the Solomon Islands. Shots were heard from the cockpit."

The camera zoomed in on the plane, and Gibbs recognized the bloody streaks on the inside of the windows for what they were.

"There is reason to believe that the plane has been taken over by hostile forces," the reporter continued, "but so far there has been nothing else. The aircraft is maintaining radio silence."

"On my way," Gibbs said into his phone as he headed out the front door.

Ziva and Tony were waiting in MTAC when he arrived.

"Who else is on the plane?" he asked.

"SecNav, his family, his protection detail, three members of his staff, the Director and her protection detail, McGee, pilot, co-pilot, and two flight attendants," Ziva rattled off from copy of the flight manifesto.

"This _had_ to be an inside job, boss."

Cynthia entered MTAC and handed him a coffee without a word.

He took in the worry written all over her face even as he nodded his appreciation of the gesture. In some way he was even grateful for her presence - because she was a tangible connection to Jen in many ways.

"I'd like to stay," she said quietly.

Gibbs gave a tight nod and indicated the row of seats behind him.

"Boss ..."

Tony called his attention back to the coverage as _Breaking News_ flashed on the screen.

"It has been confirmed that the plane is now in the control of the _Tora Bora_, a group set up by a son of the late Afghan Mujahedeen leader Maulvi Yunis Khalis, to organize resistance to U.S.-led foreign forces primarily in eastern Afghanistan."

Ziva looked pointedly at Gibbs.

"This group is run by a former Taliban military commander," she explained. "Earlier this year they approached the media about publicizing their cause, after years underground. This is not good."

"How bad is it, Ziva?"

"They are loyal to Mulla Mohammad Omar, Gibbs. The Commander of the Faithful."

As Gibbs processed the information, Tony asked, "why is SecNav a target here?"

"The pride of the US Navy is still in the Pacific," Gibbs said. "If they managed to get onto SecNav's jet who knows where else they might be."

He could feel all eyes on the room pinned on him, and hoped he wasn't communicating the extreme sense of dread that was lodged in the pit of his stomach. But no matter how he looked at this, he knew in his gut that the chances of this ending well were beyond slim.


	4. Letting The World In

As the world watched and waited, Jennifer Shepard cradled the head of the member of her detail that had put his own life ahead of hers.

"You're going to be fine," she said tenderly as he gripped the hem of her jacket.

"Director ..." he croaked.

She closed her eyes for a moment, anticipating what he was going to say. She'd witnessed his wedding; had taken immense pleasure in holding his newborn child just four months ago. This should not be happening.

"Don't even _think_ of dying on me, Melvin," she said threateningly. "Because I'll have to be the one to tell Karen."

She looked at the blood seeping from beneath his fingers and felt the emptiness of her words reverberate around her.

"I'm just going to pull this off," she said slowly in the direction of the person holding her hostage as she pulled the headrest cover off the seat in front of her and used it to staunch the bleeding.

Melvin groaned.

"Stay with me, Melvin," she said firmly.

Her eyes cut to the front of the aircraft where SecNav's wife was huddled in her seat with her arms protectively around her children. For a moment their eyes met and the glint of steely determination in the other woman chilled her to the bone. She willed her to keep mouth shut. She tried to communicate to her that she needed to let Jen deal with this – but she feared that the woman was beyond that already.

Further forward, Naseer was having a one way conversation.

"Kabir! Kabir! Come in Kabir! Kabir!"

He tossed the equipment on the nearest seat in frustration, and Jen's stomach clenched as she surmised that things were not going according to plan. With SecNav dead she had no doubt that their plan - whatever it had been - had just gone to the dogs.

They had been abandoned by whoever had masterminded this, and left to their own devices.

And that didn't bode well for the rest of them.

She glanced down at Melvin and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.

"I'm going to get you off this plane," she promised, watching carefully as Naseer stalked to the front door and threw it open angrily.

From her seat she could see the camera flashes going off as the press swarmed to the base of the aircraft to get their first look at the terrorists.

"You!" she heard him say to someone in accented English. "The ZNN cameraman! Come!"

She saw the man in question hesitate for a moment; obviously weighing whether he was ready to risk his life for the dubious honour of being the one to provide the world with coverage.

His decision made, he stepped forward with his camera poised on his shoulder – carefully filming as he walked up the steps that had materialized within seconds. He looked so young that Jen doubted he had ever been in this much danger before, and she couldn't help but admire his courage and resolve.

The man followed instructions without question, keeping his camera trained on Naseer as he wrenched SecNav's wife from her children and held a gun to her head.

"My name is Naseer Shah Massoud. I am a commander in the _Tora Bora_. This aircraft and all the people on it are now under my control. You will take your orders from me or I promise you I will blow this plane. We are carrying enough Kinepak to make it happen."

Jen flashed back to the _Oklahoma Bombing_ of 1995, and her blood ran cold.

A detonation of even half that magnitude would likely pulverise the _USS Peleliu_.


	5. A Crisis Mounts

Shifting as unobtrusively as possible, McGee reached between the seats; relief sweeping through him as his fingers curled around the reassuring steel of the Director's backup weapon.

He didn't think he'd ever been more grateful that the agent in her was anything but dormant. She'd taken advantage of the earlier confusion to slip it in there - to ensure that when they frisked her they wouldn't find it.

Something that certainly hadn't occurred to him to do.

He suddenly became aware that she was watching him, and the small grim smile that played across her lips told him that she was well aware of what he was doing. And that she expected him to act if the opportunity presented itself. She looked away immediately, but the brief contact was enough to imbue him with confidence.

He pushed fear from his mind, choosing to think instead about Gibbs and the rest of the team. He had no doubt that each one of them would do what needed doing. Just as the Director had and would again, he was sure. So he steeled himself. Determined to acquit himself well.

Or go down trying.

He focused on what was unfolding at the front of the aircraft, where Naseer was practically propelling Mrs. Davenport into the camera.

"We are holding the Secretary of the Navy," he lied as he looked straight into the lens, "and all of his family. In exchange we demand the immediate release of Abasin Said from Guantanamo. This aircraft has women and children on board, and we will not hesitate to terminate one of them every hour if our demands are not met. And to prove that we do not make idle threats -"

There was a collective intake of breath as he cocked his weapon; and a wave of horror swept across the plane – and the world – as he suddenly turned and trained his weapon on SecNav's oldest daughter; his intentions clear.

"Noooo," her mother screamed as she tackled him in protective fury.

Deflecting the gun from her child, but causing him to turn his attention back to her.

The shot echoed in the plane as he shot her in cold blood.

As he loomed over the woman bleeding to death on the ground, obviously intent on firing another round or two into her, Jen flew from her seat and threw herself over her – hoping to create the distraction McGee would need to take the shot.

And he didn't disappoint, because in a matter of seconds she felt Naseer's body crash over hers.

For a few seconds time seemed to stand still. Then Naseer's younger companion plucked the camera from the cameraman and threw it out of the door, pulling it shut in a surge of adrenaline-induced hysteria.

All the while shouting at the people on board in language most of them couldn't understand.

Waving his gun around in a threat that they knew better than to take idly.

* * *

**The Navy Yard**

**Washington, D.C.**

Gibbs paced in MTAC as one hour became two. And then three.

"Gibbs ..."

Ziva's voice alerted him to the fact that something was happening on screen.

The door to the aircraft opened slowly and the flight attendants almost tripped over their own feet in their haste to descend the steps. They were followed by a member of SecNav's protection detail with Mrs. Davenport in his arms. Then a member of Jen's detail. Carrying Melvin. SecNav's children came next. Clinging to one other. Their eyes wide and unseeing. Three people Gibbs didn't recognise followed. Two of them supporting the dead body of a man who he could only guess was the pilot.

"_Come on_ ..." Gibbs muttered, his stomach clenching when nobody else came forward.

A further few minutes stretched by, and suddenly there was a figure at the door.

McGee looked back once into the aircraft, anguish written all over his face.

Then he took a deep breath, looked out at the sea of reporters and shielded his eyes from the bright lights before stepping onto the staircase.

The door closed behind him.

He had hardly stepped onto the runway when his cellphone began to ring.

All cameras were on him as he hesitated before answering.

Knowing full well who was at the other end, and not quite sure he knew how to impart what needed imparting.

"Boss?" he said, trying hard to keep his voice from cracking.


	6. Debriefing

"Agent McGee?"

McGee looked up into the face of someone he didn't recognise. "NCIS is holding for you on a _secure_ connection, Sir. You may want to close that .." the man said, nodding at the phone in McGee's hand. "If you'll come with me?"

Reporters barraged him with questions as the cameras trailed him all the way to an entrance.

"No comment," was all he said as he disappeared inside. His restless mind on the imminent debriefing.

* * *

_**MTAC**_

_**Washington, DC**_

"How's he holding up?" newly-arrived Ducky asked Abby, who was sitting on the bottom step between the rows of seats; one hand securely lodged within Cynthia's, who herself sat tight-lipped in the aisle seat. The moment she heard the warmth in his voice she immediately clutched at one of his legs and hung on for dear life. Ducky placed his hand on her head as he felt her tremble. "Any word on the Director yet?"

He watched the rest of the team as she shook her head under his reassuring touch.

Ziva was standing to the right with one foot up against the wall, her eyes flicking between the screen and Gibbs; her body language that of one ready to spring into action as soon as the word was given, no matter where that sent her. Tony hovered over the shoulders of the techs, his face taut. Ducky saw him look over at his boss in concern for a moment, and he followed his gaze.

Gibbs might as well have been a pillar of salt the way he stood frozen in front of the screen. But Ducky had no doubt that underneath the stony exterior the man's brain was working furiously. And that he had a death grip on any emotion that might be threatening to bubble to the surface.

The screen split into two a few minutes later as McGee came online.

Ducky looked at him closely and sighed as he took in the bloodstains on his clothes and the somewhat glazed look in his eyes.

He moved towards Gibbs and rested his hand gently on his arm as the latter opened his mouth to speak.

"Easy, Jethro ..."

Gibbs looked at him for a moment, and then nodded when Tony stepped forward and handed Ducky a headset without a word. As grateful for his calming presence as everyone else in the room.

"Are you alright Timothy?" Ducky said.

"I'm fine, Ducky" McGee replied. Perhaps a little too fast for it to be credible. "Boss ..."

"Talk to me, McGee," Gibbs said. "What happened out there?"

"SecNav's dead," McGee replied, his voice heavy. "The press don't know."

The tension in the room rose a notch.

"Where's the Director?" Gibbs asked, steeling himself for the answer.

McGee took a deep breath.

"She's ... she's still on the plane," he said carefully.

"Has anybody checked you out yet?" Ducky insisted, choosing to focus on the agent who he was sure was two breaths short of hyperventilation.

Tim looked down at himself, as if he was just then seeing the bloodstains for the first time.

"It isn't mine. It's the Director's."

"Is she injured, Timothy?" Ducky asked diplomatically – avoiding bigger words as he saw Gibbs freeze for a millisecond.

"Her cheek is cut open," he replied slowly, as if unsure what to say.

Gibbs' eyes narrowed fractionally; Tim's hesitation telling him him that there was a lot more that was wrong here than what met the eye. And what met the eye was already bad enough.

"How many people still on the plane, Tim?" Gibbs asked.

"The Director, the co-pilot, and one of _them_."

"How many of _them_ were there to begin with?"

"Three. Inside job, Boss. The Director took one out before we landed, and -"

"Was that you who took the shot at Naseer?" Tony asked.

Tim nodded, but felt little satisfaction at the discreet thumbs up sign from his colleague. The second-guessing had long begun about how good an idea that had been. Even if the Director had told him it had been the only thing to do under the circumstances; that risks were as much a part of the job as dealing with the consequences of taking them.

"McGgee!" Gibbs broke into his thoughts, and the younger agent realized that he must have drifted off for a moment. "Why did he keep the Director and the pilot and let the rest go?"

McGee took a deep breath.

"He didn't. Director ..." He faltered for a moment, and then pulled himself together. "Director Shepard told him to do it."


	7. Negotiations

**Author's Note:**

Anything emboldened in the chapter is a flashback.

* * *

"He's going into shock, Jethro," Ducky pointed out as McGee's teeth started to chatter slightly. Immediately barking out an order to someone standing close by to bring something to keep him warm.

Gibbs tapped his toe, trying to quell his anxiety, as a medical orderly stepped forward and draped Tim in a foil blanket.

"From the beginning, Tim," he said. Sounding a lot calmer than he felt.

In a partly steady voice, the younger agent related everything that had happened on board from take off in the Solomon Islands to the traumatic landing on the carrier. And every time his voice wavered even remotely, Ducky was on hand to steady his nerves with a word.

McGee told them how the remaining terrorist had gone into a complete tailspin after he had shot Naseer.

How his repeated attempts to contact his onboard liason were met with silence, and how increasingly desperate he had become.

"Boss .. he can't be more than sixteen. Pretty much the third wheel in this. He had no idea who Director Shepard was when she told him. And he wants to prove himself. But he's scared."

"Scared to the point where he let the Director manipulate him?" Gibbs asked, his mind scrambling to think of what she could possibly have offered him and how they could use it to their advantage.

"Yes," McGee said nervously, his mind drifting back to that last half an hour on the plane.

"**I am prepared to die" the young man shouted; his grip on his emotions tenuous at best, as he shook his weapon threateningly in Jen's face. "Do not provoke me! Do not tell me lies!"**

"**I'm not telling you lies," she repeated slowly. "Let them go. You have me. I am more valuable than all of these people put together now. My agency will negotiate for my release. Let them go. The American government will see it as an act of good faith, and they will release Abasin Said. But you need to let these people go. **_**Now**_**. Two of them are critically wounded. This carrier has a hospital on board. They can be saved if you let them go immediately. Let them go."**

**The young terrorist considered what she was saying.**

"**How do I know you are telling the truth?" he asked after a moment.**

"**You'll have to trust me," she said calmly, never breaking eye contact.**

Gibbs ran a hand across his face.

"Then what, McGee?"

"She made a few phone calls," the agent replied slowly.

"Who'd she call?" he asked, his gut clenching at the realization that neither one of those few had to been to NCIS. Or to him.

"Homeland Security," McGee replied slowly.

"_**They have agreed," she lied effortlessly as she ended her last call. "On one condition."**_

"_**I make the conditions!" he shouted. "Not the US government! I am in charge here."**_

"_**Yes you are. But they want to make the exchange on US soil," Jen explained slowly. "They are arranging for us to be transferred off this plane as we speak."**_

"_**I will not leave this plane until I see Abasin Said," he screamed, waving his gun around shakily.**_

"_**I understand that," she said slowly. "But they have requested that we leave the USS Peleliu as soon as military transport can be arranged. They have promised us safe passage."**_

"_**I will not leave!" he repeated, his voice rising a notch.**_

"_**There is no other way to get off this carrier," she said.**_

"_**Yes there is," the co-pilot surprised them all by saying. "I will fly us off."**_

_**All eyes turned to him.**_

"_**Can it be done?" Jen asked, as he made his way slowly towards them, hands in the air to show that he was no threat.**_

"_**This plane was rigged with a landing hook because it's SecNav's. That's the only reason we were able to land in the first place. It has the necessary rigging for catapult launch. It can be done."**_

_**Jen looked closely at him. And knew he was lying. **_

_**But in that moment she also understood what he was offering, and she accepted without hesitation.**_

_**She looked at the young man before her.**_

"_**Do it," he said.**_

"Boss ..." said Tony slowly. "That's a _Gulfstream IV_. It doesn't have the acceleration necessary for this, even with a catapult launch. If they try to take off ... they'll hit the ocean."


	8. Codespeak

**Author's Note:**

Anything emboldened is a flashback.

* * *

"Agent Gibbs ..."

One of the agents alerted him to the fact that there was activity on the carrier runway.

"They're prepping the plane for take off."

"Boss, there's more ..." McGee said, in a way that made Gibbs' blood run cold.

**Jen stood close to the co-pilot. Seeming in some way to draw strength from this man's quiet resolve.**

"**McGee ... " she said, as he entrenched himself in a nearby seat.**

"**Yes ma'am?" he asked, looking her straight in the eye.**

**Communicating to her that he had no intention of moving.**

**She crouched next to him and took his hand into hers - her smile bordering on maternal.**

"**I'm not leaving you, Director," he stated. Hoping he sounded as determined as he felt, but doubting it.**

"**I need you out there," she said slowly. "To get a message to Agent Gibbs." **

**For a moment his heart swelled with the hope that she had a plan to defuse this situation. That it would be something that would tell the boss what to do.**

**But all hope was shattered the moment he recognized the look in her eyes, and saw her remove something from around her neck. She closed his palm over it and covered it with her own; squeezing it as tightly as she squeezed her eyes shut.**

"**A good traveller has no fixed plans, McGee," she said. "And he is not intent on arriving."**

**Her hand moved to his cheek and she cupped it tenderly as he stared at her in confusion.**

"**He will understand," she said. "Go."**

**He was barely aware that she had pulled him to his feet and was pushing him towards the door. As he looked back once from the doorway their gazes locked, and he heard her final words to him before stepping out into the sea of lights and reclaiming his life.**

"Lao Tzu," whispered Ducky to nobody in particular, as he watched Gibbs watch McGee.

He was sure everyone had stopped breathing in the assessment centre as they tried to decipher the vagueness of what was passing between the two men.

Gibbs pressed his lips together in a hard line and brought his eyes back up to the young man's.

"She say anything else, McGee?"

"_Sursum corda_," Tim said very slowly, and flinched as he saw the depth of emotion resonate in Gibbs' eyes.

Gibbs fought the nausea, and gave a harsh nod.

"And, boss, she .. she told me to tell you she was sorry," added Mcgee, finding it very hard to keep meeting the older man's eyes.

Gibbs absorbed it all for a moment before nodding again and saying, "good job, McGee."

"Boss, I'm ..."

But Gibbs shook his head.

"Get some rest," he said. "We'll get you home as soon as we can."

As the connection with McGee was severed Gibbs moved towards the door. Desperate for a place where he could think. And allow himself to feel. Only to find his path being crossed by the medical examiner.

"Jethro, you need to arrange counselling for that boy the moment he gets back. He's a ripe candidate for post traumatic stress disorder."

"You'll have to take it up with J- " Gibbs started to say.

And then faltered on the realization that Jen wasn't coming home.

* * *

**A short while later …**

The stillness of night was fractured by the shrill ringing of his cell phone.

"Gibbs."

"I love you," was all she said before she hung up.

Gibbs curled his fingers tightly around the phone for a second, and then flung it across the dark rooftop; a wave of emotional anger rising like bile and threatening to choke him.

It skidded to a halt at Ducky's feet, and he picked it up and continued his approach until they stood side by side, staring down at the navy yard.

"Was the message what I think it was?" he asked after a while.

Gibbs nodded.

"I'm sorry Jethro," Ducky said simply.

"I know, Duck," Gibbs said, his voice wavering for an instant.

His friend risked putting a firm hand on his shoulder; his touch conveying all the solidarity he knew words could not.

But the moment couldn't last – no matter how much Ducky wished it could.

Especially not now.

"You need to come downstairs, Jethro. Fornell is here."


	9. Never Tell Me The Odds

**On the **_**USS Pelelieu**_**:**

Jen put her phone aside and slipped into the seat next to the co-pilot.

He put a hand over hers and she almost cracked under the intensity of emotion the simple gesture evoked.

"Was that Gunny on the phone?" he asked quietly.

"You know Jethro?" she asked. Surprised to find she didn't care that he had overheard her conversation with McGee or that he had pieced things together.

"We go way back," he said with a smile as he busied himself flipping switches and getting the cockpit ready for departure. "Saved my life during _Desert Storm_. Took a shot at one of the bastards targeting the fuel line on my chopper. He's a good man."

"Yes he is," Jen said with a small smile. Finding comfort in the fact that she was with someone who considered Jethro a friend.

She opened her mouth to thank him, but one look from him stopped her.

"You'd never landed this plane on a carrier before, had you?" she asked instead.

"No. And that wasn't me," he said, his expression serious. "The engines were retrofitted for maximum acceleration in the event something like this ever became necessary. But I won't lie to you ..."

"You don't have to," she said. "I could see it in your eyes back there."

He shrugged and carried on. "Either way ..."

She shook her head and covered his mouth with her hand, effectively stopping him from ending the sentence.

"Don't say it," she said.

"Right," he mumbled between her fingers.

"So, realistically?"

"Twenty percent," he said, as the engines came to life. "Maybe."

"Are we ready to go?" the terrorist asked as he got into the flight engineer's seat behind them and buckled up.

The co-pilot nodded grimly as he got the final okay from the deck crew.

"Y'all put the headgear on now," he said. "This is gonna to get very loud."

* * *

_**Meanwhile, in MTAC …**_

"What is it, Ziva?" Tony asked, as he watched the Israeli sit, then stand, then freeze.

"Can we access the log for the Director's satellite phone?" she asked one of the techs. "Something is bothering me."

The man looked at Tony for permission.

"Do it," he said. "You think she called someone else apart from Homeland Security? McGee would have told us."

"Not if he didn't know," Ziva said, peering over the tech's shoulder as the necessary information came up on the screen. "There. She received a call. Three minutes after McGee left the plane."

"Look like she also placed a call to Agent Gibbs" the tech pointed out. "Two minutes ago. May be a hang up."

"Or making sure he got the message," Tony said grimly.

"What message?" Gibbs asked as he stalked back into the room with Ducky and Fornell at his heels.

"That the plane is about to take off, boss," Tony replied without hesitation.

Gibbs looked at him intensely for a moment, but Tony held his gaze without flinching.

"Towbar and holdback are in position, Agent Gibbs," one of the techs called, drawing everyone's attention to the plasma. "They're waiting on the catapult officer."

Gibbs' eyes drifted to the screen, and what he saw on it made his heart ache.

The camera zoomed in on Jen in the cockpit, and he saw her look out; a pensive look on her face as her fingers rose to her mouth. Her lips puckered so minutely he almost missed it. But then her fingertips grazed the window and he had no doubt she knew he was watching. That it was her silent communication to him. Her eyes swept the cameras one last time, and then she faced forward and nodded.

Gibbs caught a muffled sob in the background. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Abby creeping closer, and knew she was unsure of just how tactile she should be with him at that moment. Although somewhere in his being he appreciated it, he felt sharp relief when Ducky intercepted her and allowed her to wrap her arms around _him_ instead. Because he didn't think he could handle any kind of physical contact right then. Nor give her the reassurance she needed.

The only thing he registered, as the catapult cylinders filled with high-pressure steam from the ship's reactors and holdback was released, was a sense of watching the scene from somewhere outside himself.

That it wasn't Jen on that aircraft. That he wasn't standing by helplessly. That the message she had passed on to him was something he could dismiss. That it meant nothing.

"Gibbs .. "

He heard Ziva, but it was Tony shaking his arm that ultimately snapped him out of it.

"Boss, they're up," he said gently, his voice almost cracking. "They're up."

And Gibbs turned back to the screen to see the plane well on its way to its destiny.

There was no reaction in MTAC. Everyone stood stock still and waited for Gibbs to say something.

Anything.

But all he did was stare at the screen until even the camera's powerful zoom could no longer track the aircraft.

Fornell stepped forward suddenly, and heads snapped up because they had practically forgotten he was among them. He spoke briefly into his cell phone, and then closed it.

"Gibbs - " he began.

"Agent McGee online, Sir," one of the techs interrupted.

McGee's haggard face filled the screen the next moment.

"Boss, according to the flight plan they're heading for the island of Ofu."

"American Samoa," said Gibbs, his mind kicking into gear as soon as he had something tangible to work with.

"American territory for the exchange?" Tony asked, and wasn't quite sure what to make of the look that flashed across Gibbs' face.

"Sir, the Director of the FBI is standing by," the tech interjected.

Gibbs drew a deep breath. Hoping against hope for a second. Even if he knew it was futile.

"Put him on. Stand by, McGee. _Director_ ... " he acknowledged.

"Agent Gibbs."

The ominous tone of the greeting sent a ripple through the assessment centre.

"Have they made the decision?"

The Director hesitated for a second.

"The decision to accept Director Shepard's recommendation was ... unanimous," the man said quietly. "They will claim that the Kinepak onboard was made active, and that they shot the plane down before the man onboard could force the pilot to crash into American territory."

Gibbs nodded savagely. Detaching himself from his emotions and letting the anger that had been simmering be his refuge for an instant. Very conscious that everyone was waiting for his reaction.

"Thank you, Director," he said.

The other man nodded grimly.

"For obvious reasons I cannot be involved further, but Agent Fornell is fully authorized to provide whatever back up NCIS might need. You have our full co-operation in this," he said.

Not waiting for an answer before going offline.

"Cynthia!" Gibbs barked without turning round. Not surprised that she was already at his side. "Get me Diane Fontaine. Di Nozzo, you're in charge here. Bring McGee back. I'll be in touch. Ziva, you're with me. Tobias, we'll talk in the car."

Ducky stepped into his path as he started up the steps.

"Jethro ... be careful."

Gibbs nodded, and his gaze drifted to Abby. His face softened as he extended a gentle hand to her cheek and swiped away a tear.

"Bring her home Gibbs," she said bravely. Her voice little more than a whisper.

He drew her to him.

Closing his eyes against the emotion as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

And then he was gone.

* * *

**Author's note:**

Diane Fontaine was the reporter in the Season One episode **Seadog**.


	10. Scrambling

"Here we go .." said Tony as the WXEK news channel started its breaking news broadcast. "_That_ was fast."

"Jethro doesn't waste any time," Ducky said wryly.

Everyone's eyes were glued to the plasma as the reporter started to talk into her microphone.

"All eyes are on Oceania as a drama unfolds in the sky. WXEK has learnt that, contrary to popular belief, the Secretary of the Navy was shot dead several hours ago. The remaining, and as yet unnamed, terrorist still on board the aircraft is currently holding the co-pilot and the Director of NCIS, the Navy Criminal Investigative Service, hostage, as they head towards an undisclosed location to effect an exchange for a Tora Bora prisoner being held in Guantanamo. Director Jenny Shepard," she continued, as photos of Jen graced the screen, "is the first female Director of an armed federal agency. This channel has learnt that she negotiated successfully for the release of the other hostages on the plane, in return for remaining on the aircraft. Our sources have revealed that the US government intends to shoot the plane down over the Pacific Ocean before it reaches its destination. For security reasons we cannot disclose what their destination is, but we will keep you updated as the news comes in. For WXEK news, this is Diane Fontaine."

There was silence in MTAC.

In a short while news channels everywhere would pick up the story.

With luck they had bought the Director, and Gibbs, some time.

"Any chance he hasn't pissed off all the people in high places that he knows?" Tony asked after a while.

"I wish the Director were here," whimpered Abby.

Ducky pulled her closer.

"Jethro will find a way" Ducky said as he pulled her closer. Wishing he sounded more confident.

* * *

McGee stood on the deck of the_ USS Peleliu_; his stomach in pieces as he watched two Harrier jets take off.

He felt someone touch his shoulder, and turned to find the female orderly who had been entrusted with his welfare standing beside him.

"You need to come inside Agent McGee. You've done your part. There is nothing more you can do except look after yourself now. Please come."

McGee allowed himself to be led away, pausing only once to empty the contents of his stomach on the way back to the infirmary.

* * *

The co-pilot heard the sound of the jets before anyone else, and the way his body tensed alerted the young terrorist that something unexpected was happening.

"What is going on?" he asked, eyes going wild; his weapon shaking against Jen's shoulder as he struggled to look outside.

"Stay calm," the pilot advised, his eyes cutting to Jen.

Her eyes locked with his and she gave him a sad smile as she placed a hand over his on the controls.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way," she whispered. Knowing the young man behind her was too frazzled trying to understand what was going on outside to pay much attention to the interaction between the two of them.

The pilot nodded and then looked to his side sharply as one of the jets came up alongside them.

"Captain Marshall, US Navy," its pilot said with a broad smile. "We'll escort you till the _Kitty Hawk_ scrambles her hornets. They'll take it from there. Here to take care of our own and make sure you make it to Ofu, Sir. And Ma'am ..." he said as he mock-saluted Jen, "Gunny sends his regards. Says he'll see you on the ground."


	11. Special Delivery

**Author's Note: **

Anything emboldened is a flashback.

* * *

**Off the coast of Ofu**

**American Samoa **

Ziva huddled in the corner of the small landing craft and watched Gibbs.

He looked as though he were a million miles away as he stared out over the water, but she knew better than that. Knew that whatever he had let get away from him in MTAC had been suppressed again, and that the tactical part of his brain was now in charge. She wasn't sure why she was so amazed that in so short a time he had successfully mobilized so many people to help him. Maybe it was because she had only ever seen him as a brash, abrasive thorn in people's side, and never as a strategist. The one who disregarded the bigshots to get the job done. She hadn't been able to tell whether he was surprised that the sister agencies had rallied without exception – only that he knew what he was asking when he'd made his requests. She suspected a lot of people owed him their life, and in the sixteen years since he'd served with them quite a few had carved out niches for themselves in high places.

He hadn't hesitated to call in the favours, and now they sat and they waited.

For the last of those favours to drop into their lap.

Literally.

She raised her head as she heard a Harrier jet approach.

"Gibbs ..." she called.

But he had heard it too.

Together they watched as the drop was executed and the aircraft pulled away.

* * *

**MTAC / USS Pelelieu**

"How are you feeling, Timothy?" Ducky asked in concern.

"I'm fine Ducky," the agent replied with a sharp nod.

Ducky fell silent - because he could see the change. He couldn't quite pinpoint it – but it was there. In the younger man's posture. In his demeanour. In the way he spoke. He'd resisted all attempts to bring him home when he'd found out where Gibbs was headed.

Insisting that he had to remain on board to execute a plan to keep NCIS in the loop.

McGee caught the look that flashed across Ducky's face, and for a second he thought back to the moment he'd gone to the Commanding Officer about extending the scope of Captain Marshall's mission - having already made up his mind that he was not taking no for an answer. Because Gibbs needed all the help he could get out there, and he owed it to him and to the Director to make sure he got it.

**The CO had looked at him for a long moment, weighing his response.**

"_**Only one of Jethro's boys could make that sound like a demand and not a request,**_**" he'd said with a smile.**

**And McGee had felt ten feet tall.**

"The drop's been made," one of the ship's techs announced from behind him.

McGee looked at this colleagues in MTAC and smiled.

"Can you see them?" he asked.

"We've had satellite coverage for the past twenty minutes," an MTAC tech replied.

"And we'll have audio in another ten. Fifteen tops. Standing by to interface things at this end. You'll hear it when we do."

"Nice work, McGee," Tony said.

* * *

**The Island of Ofu **

**American Samoa**

The atmosphere on what passed for a landing strip was heavy, Ziva observed from the shacks of Vaoto Lodge as she opened the drop bag and pulled out the equipment for herself and Gibbs.

They really hadn't known what to expect when they'd landed. But Gibbs was currently being deferred to as the highest authority in NCIS, and all efforts were being made to involve him in the lead up to the imminent exchange.

Yet Ziva couldn't shake the feeling that something was not quite right with the scenario. And she was pretty sure Gibbs' gut was telling him the same thing.

"McGee. Come in McGee," she said as she activated a headset.

"Ziva," came the relieved reply. But she could hear the tension in his voice that told her that she was right to feel uneasy.

"Welcome to the party," Tony said grimly from MTAC. "Where's Gibbs?"

"Outside with the big boys," she replied, as she stood at the window and made eye contact with him. Alerting him that he should come back in immediately.

"ETA is six minutes twenty-eight seconds," advanced McGee urgently.

Ziva looked up as Gibbs entered the shack. She handed him a headset without a word and continued to unpack the bag. Her eyes fell on something unexpected, and she closed her eyes for a moment as she drew it out.

"What is it, Di Nozzo?"

"Boss ... that's not Abasin Said in the van."

"You sure?" Gibbs asked, even if the news came as no real surprise because this, in relative terms, had been far too easy.

"The CIA's been tracking the prisoner. He left Guantanamo, but Homeland Security intervened somewhere en route. If their intel is correct, there isn't going to be any exchange. There is no reason to believe the Kinepak on the plane has been activated, so ..."

"It will just be two lives lost," Gibbs continued. He rubbed a hand across his tired face. "And she's already given them carte blanche," he said. Feeling a rush of anger in her regard. And not for the first time in the past few hours.

"ETA five minutes two seconds," said McGee.

"Set up in here," Gibbs said to Ziva, and stared at her in confusion when she didn't respond immediately. "Ziva!"

"This was in the bag, Gibbs," she said, her voice a lot softer than he was used to hearing it as she handed him a small packet with his name scrawled on it. The writing unmistakably McGee's.

She wished she could give him some space, but there wasn't enough time. And as much as she wanted not to look, she couldn't draw her eyes from him as he opened the packet slowly and tipped its contents into his hand. She felt her heart ache for him as he stared transfixed at the necklace in his palm. He slipped a gold ring off the chain and traced the inscription inside it with his index finger; the only indication that he was feeling anything the way his lips were tightly compressed. As he looked at her, the pain emanating from his eyes almost made her look away. But she didn't. She held his gaze. Knowing it might be the only moment he would let himself feel anything, and not wanting to cheat him out of it by having to pretend that the personal cost wasn't threatening to overwhelm him.

"Thank you McGee," she heard him say softly, as he pulled a chain of his own from under his t-shirt and added Jen's ring to the one that was already on there. Holding them both tightly in his hand for a moment before putting the chain back on and tucking it out of sight.

Then he turned to Ziva, his decision made.

"She was your partner too," he said as he pressed Jen's chain into her hand before turning away from her.


	12. On The Ground

**MTAC / USS Pelelieu / Ofu (American Samoa)**

"Can you get any closer?" Tony asked one of the techs as the door to the plane swung open, and the terrorist pushed Jen into plain view with a gun to her head.

"It's starting to pixillate," the man replied in frustration.

"We're on it," said McGee from his end.

"This is not good, Tony," Abby said as she stepped forward.

"Talk to me, Di Nozzo," Gibbs said.

Beside him, Ziva lowered the binoculars and passed them to him.

"I think I see four charges, but I do not have a good visual," she said.

"Put Abby on, Tony," Gibbs said; the calmness in his voice unnerving rather than reassuring.

"Electro blasting caps wired into a central circuit board, Gibbs," she replied promptly. "Four charges. Each one equipped with nails. We're looking at maximum shrapnel damage."

"Any chance it's a fake?" asked Gibbs, even if he knew the answer already.

"No."

"He is holding a detonator in his hand," Ziva observed. "A head shot will -

"Stop this without setting off the bomb," Gibbs interjected.

"Boss .." said McGee, his wary tone indicating that there was something they were missing.

"Gibbs, there's a timer," Abby said, before he could continue.

"The detonator's a prop," finished McGee breathlessly.

"He knows ... " said Gibbs.

"He's saying something," said McGee suddenly.

All eyes focused on the man currently holding the Director hostage, and Tony pinched the bridge of his nose before he spoke.

"You get that boss?"

"Loud and clear," Gibbs replied as the man's voice carried across the landing strip to their position in the lodge.

"Could be a bluff," Tony said.

"Could be. But we have no way of knowing if he's activated the Kinepak or not until we get into that plane or it goes off. We got a visual on that timer McGee?"

"Six minutes forty seconds. And counting down," McGee said.

"That enough time to defuse that thing?" Gibbs asked Ziva.

She shot him a look that told him all he needed to know.

"Good enough," he said. And MTAC echoed with the sound of the scope snapping onto his rifle.

Ducky's concerned voice shattered the subsequent silence.

"Jethro," he began warily. "Your eyesight isn't what it used to be."

He trailed off, letting the implication behind his words set in.

Gibbs faltered, until he felt Ziva's fingers on his arm.

"There is an old Jewish proverb," she whispered. "_Pray that you will never have to bear all that you are able to endure_."

He looked at her, somewhat bemused.

"Take the shot, Gibbs," she said.

"Four minutes fifty seconds, boss," said McGee urgently.

"Jethro, let Ziva take the shot," came Ducky's voice again.

Gibbs drew a deep breath as he raised the rifle and acquired his target.

"No," was all he said before his fingers tightened around the trigger.


	13. Defusing The Situation

**Ofu (American Samoa) / MTAC / USS Pelelieu**

The blur that was Ziva streaking out across the landing strip, told them that Gibbs' bullet had found its mark; even if the speed with which she reached the plane also told them that she must have been out the door the moment he pulled the trigger.

A testament to her faith in his ability to take the man down.

They watched as the co-pilot struggled with the body before dropping the stairs over the side.

Ziva stepped up. Pulling a knife from her waist and pressing a finger to Jen's lips as the latter opened her mouth to speak. For a moment she registered that two members of the bomb disposal unit were getting by behind her, and that another one was hovering over her shoulder. As he pressed closer, obviously intent on taking over, a small flick of her wrist angled her blade to his windpipe. Her eyes never even left the circuitry she was focusing on.

"Maybe you should see if your team need help inside," Gibbs said. Placing his hand carefully on Ziva's shoulder the next moment. Her cue to stand down. "NCIS will take it from here."

The man was just backing off when the call came from inside the aircraft that the Kinepak hadn't been activated, and that they were calling for back up to have the components removed through the aft galley door.

Ziva raised her eyes over Jen's head and addressed the co-pilot.

"Go," she said.

"Ziva?" Gibbs asked, never breaking eye contact with Jen.

"Get everybody out of here _now, _Gibbs," she replied.

He nodded and turned away.

For a moment Jen observed Ziva tune everybody out - her brow furrowed in concentration as she made her assessment. And then her eyes drifted over to Gibbs. Watching him as he barked out orders that everyone reacted to immediately, and that got the surrounding area clear in what seemed like mere seconds. She wasn't surprised when he returned to their side, and the look that stretched between them told her that he wasn't leaving. She knew that her eyes softened as she looked back at him in acceptance. Knew that she wouldn't have left either had their roles been reversed.

However, she was not prepared for the onslaught of emotion that the sight of his hand reaching for hers brought with it.

"Aww Gibbs ..." said Abby, tears springing to her eyes as she hugged herself in MTAC.

As he stood by her side, Tony found himself wondering whether Gibbs was aware that the President, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, all the sister agencies, and potentially half the world, were watching this; and had to admire the man for not caring. For making Jen his only focus in what were possibly the last few minutes they would ever share.

He'd found himself wondering more than usual, since this had begun, whether there were things unspoken between them. If that was partly what had driven Gibbs in the past few hours. But watching them now he knew he had his answer. His look, his touch, the wordless intensity, told her nothing she didn't already know. What was passing between them was no last minute attempt to tell her her how he felt and gauge how she felt in return.

It was a reaffirmation. From both of them.

Even without looking, Gibbs knew the moment Ziva had made her decision about which cuts to make. He squeezed Jen's hand a little harder; his eyes smiling at her when she squeezed back. Ziva raised the tip of her knife to compressed lips for a moment and then brought it down to the wiring.

McGee was almost sure he hadn't drawn a breath in three minutes when the timer flickered and stopped counting down; that nobody around him had either; and that the same could probably be said for the people in MTAC.

On their screens they saw Gibbs' free hand close round Ziva's curls. Gratitude implicit in the gesture. The silence stretched for a second longer, as Jen's forehead came down against her ex-partner's. Then in unison they reached for Gibbs. Drawing him into their embrace.

In that moment it was impossible to tell who was comforting who.

Abby covered her mouth to suppress a sob. Then she looked at the screen, tears streaming down her face.

"Get your butt home, McGee!"


	14. Back Home

**Author's note:**

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I've replied to all the ones that I could reply to – but want the anonymous reviewers to know that I appreciate their thoughts as well. And in answer to **hopesmom999**, the answer is yes, I have. I can't give you a time frame, but I do hope to finish _Proclivities._

_

* * *

_

**En route to Washington D.C.**

The events of the past day were catching up with her at last. He surveyed the area one last time as they got ready for departure, and then settled into the seat next to hers.

"Hi," she whispered, raising the arm rest that separated them and laying her head against his shoulder.

Gibbs put an arm around hers and pulled her into his side. Dropping a kiss to the top of her head as he felt her draw a deep breath and curl her fingers round his t-shirt.

Evidently not trusting herself to speak.

"I've got you," he said, tightening his hold on her just enough for the physical contact to mirror his words. She didn't say anything, but the nod of her head against his chest told him she believed him. He allowed himself the luxury of running his fingers through her hair. Knowing that as much as he wanted to talk to her, to hear from her that she was doing fine, what she needed now was rest in a safe environment.

As they started their journey homeward, he kept his fingers in her hair. Detangling knots gently the way he knew she loved and found soothing. He wasn't surprised when he heard the change in her breathing that told him she'd drifted off to sleep. She stirred a few times with his name, or Melvin's, on her lips, but it had only taken the pressure of his fingertips and a few choice words to calm her down and ensure she kept sleeping.

She slept all the way home.

* * *

**Navy Yard, Washington D.C.**

**Four days later**

The atmosphere at NCIS was electric; the news that the Director was back in the building creating a buzz that would be difficult to ignore even if he wished to.

Which he didn't.

It washed over him once more as he stepped out of the elevator, two coffee cups in hand, and he had to control his desire to grin as he made his way upstairs. Hoping that, as promised, she'd be done with her meetings and he could talk to her.

On that plane back home he'd been determined not to let her out of his sight anytime soon. But that illusion had been shattered the moment they landed in the States and everyone wanted a piece of her. From the press, to the _Director of the Women's International League for Peace & Freedom_ who had flown in especially to meet her, to the person stepping in for SecNav, to the President.

She'd slept in a hotel for three days - her protection overseen by Homeland Security - and he hadn't been able to get anywhere near her while the debriefing had been ongoing. They hadn't even let him hand over a change of clothes in person. He'd had a four minute conversation with her on her cell phone while she was taking a bath the second night, but not much had been said. Because it was painful to make small talk when you wanted that person in your arms, and you couldn't even tell them so on account of the unseen audience.

"She done?" he asked Cynthia as he walked into the outer office.

"Agent McGee is with her," she replied.

His voice stopped her as she reached for the phone.

"I'll wait," he said. Taking a seat on the couch.

Cynthia raised her eyes for a second.

"Thank you," she said briefly.

But before he could ask her what for she had lowered them again.

Meanwhile, in the Director's office, McGee shifted from foot to foot nervously.

"You wanted to see me, Director?"

"Ducky has put in a recommendation for you to see someone" she said, cutting straight to the chase. Coming round her desk and handing him the forms. Placing a hand on his arm in silent support. Knowing that he would likely interpret the evaluation as a threat to his career. "I would be remiss if I didn't follow through, Tim," she said, her voice taking on a gentler tone. "It's not a reflection on your conduct. It's insurance."

He followed her to the couch.

"It can take up to a month for post traumatic stress disorder to manifest itself," she said as he sat down next to her. "And sometimes it doesn't till a long while after the trauma. I need to know you're being taken care of."

McGee stared at her in silence.

"You look surprised," she said, her hand over his to quell the slight shake that it had acquired.

"I ..."

"I need to know you're being good to yourself," she said, as he looked down at his shoes. "Have you been sleeping?"

He shook his head.

"Are you thinking about the shoot out or about leaving the plane?"

Her perspicacity took him by surprise, and his lower lip quivered just a bit.

Just enough to give him away.

"There's no need for bravado with me. I know what it cost to take that shot. I know what it's like to have to walk away from what feels like a hopeless situation."

He resisted for a moment as she put a palm to his face and turned it towards her.

"Tim, look at me. It's important. The shoot out or leaving the plane?"

"Leaving you _behind_ on that plane," he corrected – his voice barely more than a whisper.

Her thumb caressed his cheek once and then she lowered her hand to her lap.

"You didn't leave me behind," she said gently. "You did your job. As an NCIS agent. On my directive. You got the word to Gibbs. You enabled him to do what he needed to do. You gave him the eyes and ears that he needed. And from what I hear ..." she said with a proud knowing smile, "you told the Commander of an aircraft carrier how to run his op."

"But ..."

"No buts, Tim. I entrusted you with an important job, and you came through. I wouldn't be here it if weren't for you. Neither would a lot of other people. And if it makes you feel any better, I will be seeing someo -"

"Have _you_ been sleeping at night?" he asked suddenly. Not sure where he'd found the nerve to get personal like this.

"Not yet. But I will ... once I'm home with Jethro," she replied, the honesty in her face and in her voice agonizing. She looked at him for a long moment before asking, "have you been sleeping alone?"

He debated not telling the truth for a moment, and then changed his mind.

"Abby's been staying with me," he admitted.

"Good," she said. But she stood and moved to the window as he mentioned her, because she didn't think she could bear to hear what a comfort it was to have someone wrapped around him the past few nights when she hadn't even been able to get five minutes with Jethro.

But he surprised her with his next question.

"Director?"

"Yes, McGee?"

"What was it like?"

"_Like?_" she asked.

Playing for time - even if she knew what he was asking.

"What was it like making that decision?"


	15. The Road Ahead

Not for a moment did she consider dismissing his question.

Although she did consider answering him with her back turned.

But this was McGee.

The least experienced member of Gibbs' team until a few days ago; the one who'd had to prove his mettle when he least expected it; who'd been forced to walk away against his better judgement; who'd stood up to authority to give her a fighting chance; who'd had to tap into resources he probably didn't even know he had; who was standing at her side in emotional piecemeal.

He deserved more respect than that.

"I'm not sure I have the answer to your question, Tim," she answered as she slowly turned to face him. "I made the only decision there was to make. There was no other option. If I hadn't made it, it would have been made for me - and the people making it would have had to live with themselves. Live with the cover up and lies that would have come with justifying such a decision. Lies to their families, to the media. To the world."

She reached out for him as she saw shock take root.

"The burden that comes with office is no joke, McGee. There's more to jobs like mine - and theirs - than the town car and the fancy dinners and the office with a view. There are times when you have to make decisions which impact the lives of others. And there's no space for personal feelings. There can't be ... no matter who you're leaving behi - "

Her voice cracked momentarily, and she felt the pressure of the young agent's fingers over hers. Her eyes cut to his for a moment and she felt her heart constrict a little at the sight of the tears in his eyes.

"Are you asking me whether I gave any thought to what it would do to Jethro?"

McGee nodded, really not trusting himself to speak.

Jen thought about it for a moment. About what it would cost her to lay it all out for him to see. The feeling she'd had when she'd called Jethro from the plane – the feeling of having her soul stripped bare – revisited her for a second. But she clamped down on it – because she knew that although it was fine to appear somewhat vulnerable in front of McGee, she couldn't fall apart. And that no matter what it cost her, she had to be his role model if she wanted him to move forward and get the help she was sure he would be needing. To continue to do a job that might demand the same thing of him again somewhere down the road.

"We don't lead the lives of ordinary people. We have responsibilities that they could never have. You hope, in this line of work, that it will never come to it - but there are times when you either have to put yourself at the end of the line or take yourself out of the equation altogether. And this ... was one of those times. I'm sorry you had to be the one to tell him."

"I couldn't even look at him," McGee said as she placed a hand on his arm. "His eyes ..."

He trailed off, not knowing how to describe what he'd seen in Gibbs' eyes the moment he'd realised that something else was being taken from him, and that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Outside, the man in question stood and moved towards the door. Not sure what it was that was drawing him to it. Knowing only that he was needed on the other side. He slipped into the room to find Jen smiling gently at McGee; her thumb brushing his cheek almost maternally. She looked up as he came to stand beside them, and moved fractionally closer to him.

Knowing that Gibbs' strong hand on his shoulder was as grounding for the young agent as the gentle one on her sleeve was for her, gave her the strength to keep talking.

"As long as we have no illusions about what kind of honesty it will take to move on from this, McGee, then we have a chance."

She could feel both pairs of eyes on her. Knew that they were both aware she wasn't just talking about the therapy.

"Go and spend some time with Abby," she said to McGee. He nodded – taking it as his cue to leave. "McGee ..." she said as he reached the doorway.

"Yes, Director?"

"I believe you have something that belongs to me?" she said with a soft smile.

McGee looked at Gibbs – and the latter angled his head towards the door in a way that told him he should go.

Gibbs waited for the door to close before turning to Jen.

"You okay?" he asked, walking over to her desk and retrieving the coffee he'd placed there when he entered. Striving for normality because he was sure the conversation with McGee had not been easy. And although he might ask her later what they had talked about, now was not the time.

Jen wrapped her fingers around the cup.

"I had to _fight_ to come to the office," she said after she'd taken a long swallow. Waiting for him to understand what that meant.

"Not coming home tonight?" he asked carefully.

Trying hard not to make it sound like a criticism. And to keep the disappointment from his voice.

She shook her head, eyes burning with tears which she kept at bay with the heel of her hand as she turned back to the window.

"I couldn't even go to Melvin's funeral," she said, her voice heavy with emotion.

"I went instead," he said. "Karen asked only that you go by and see the baby when you get a chance."

He heard the muffled sob in spite of the fact that she covered her mouth with her hand. Debated whether to reach out and touch her and decided against it, because he knew that it would most likely tip the emotional balance for her – and that she needed to stay strong to get through the rest of the day.

She'd find a way to let him know if she needed physical reassurance.

"Mrs Davenport is being transferred to Bethesda tomorrow," he said, even if he was sure she knew already.

He saw her nod.

"Have you slept at all, Jethro?" she surprised him by asking.

He almost told her that he could no longer sleep without her head on his stomach or his chest, without her nearness. But he stopped himself, because it would only have brought her pain - and there was more than enough of that between them already.

"Jethro?"

"A little," he lied.

"I miss you," she said, with just the hint of a tremble in her voice.

"It will be over soon," he said. Taking a step closer to her, even if he had promised himself he wouldn't.

"I"m cold."

Not quite what he'd expected her to say – but knowing it was her way of telling him she wanted to be held. She didn't turn from the window, but sank back against him as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Jethro?"

"Yeah Jen?"

"Can you st -"

"I'll be downstairs till you leave," he promised. Understanding her need to have him close - even if she couldn't spend time with him, couldn't go home with him. Glad she'd asked – even if he would have stayed anyway.

The silence stretched for a moment, and he found himself pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Us. Later," he answered truthfully – his mind racing forward to what he knew would be an intense and emotional experience. He smiled against her hair when he felt her fingers squeeze his as they rested across her abdomen. Both of them knowing that it was by no means certain that she would be the one to break first when they next made love.

His arms tightened around her possessively.

"I have your ring. Want it back?" he asked gently.

He felt her nod and released her. Looking intently at her as he slipped her band off his chain.

"The next time you give me this you'd better be ready to -" he started to say quietly. Stopping he moment he felt her palm against his cheek.

He turned into it as he felt the pressure, and planted a small kiss into it. Then he slipped the ring onto her finger. Just for a moment they both looked at it – and it felt to Jen like they'd just renewed their vows. That it was his way of telling her that he understood why she'd done what she'd done. That he forgave her for being unable to put them first. That he was grateful they still had a life ahead of them. That he would never let her go. And then he pulled it back off and handed it to her. Pulling another chain from his pocket.

"I gave yours to Ziva," he said when he saw the question in her eyes. "Bought you a new one."

"Thank you, Jethro."

He let her struggle for just a moment before he took over and fastened it. As his fingers brushed her skin he felt her draw a breath and rub her neck against them.

The move made him smile. Because it was good to know that he wasn't the only one in danger of succumbing to temptation here. But there would be a time and place for being intimate that wasn't the here and now.

He pulled her head towards him and pressed a long kiss to her forehead before moving away from her slowly. Turning from the doorway to look at her one last time.

"I'll be home as soon as I can" she said with a soft smile.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

There is one chapter left to this story. I am hoping to have it up tomorrow, but I can't promise. Reason being I am going to tweak the original ending by adding something to it. I still have to most of that _something_ – and I don't know how long it will take. With luck I will get it squared away quickly, but since I haven't written anything for a several months it may not be that simple.


	16. Bonding

He was in his basement when she finally came home two evenings later.

Sitting in front of a large piece of wood.

"I'm home," she said, as she wound her arms around his waist and settled her chin on his shoulder.

"Hey ..." he replied.

Pulling her round onto his lap and nuzzling her neck.

Inhaling her scent.

Almost unsure what to do with himself now that she was finally in his arms.

"What's this?" she asked, running her fingers over the wood.

He paused for a moment.

"Jethro?"

"We'll talk about it later," he said.

Pulling her with him as he stood up and headed up the stairs.

He chose not to watch her undress, but to do it himself. Because he wanted an immediate connection to her – and he knew of no better way than to expose his hands to her skin as it appeared bit by bit.

Palms, flat on her shoulders, ran down her arms till they meet her hands. He was gentle but in control; a combination he knew she enjoyed from time to time.

Their fingertips melded for the moment it took to raise her arms above her head, but it was his hands, sliding down her side and tracing the swell of her breasts, which drew forth the first utterance. Her nipples hardened in anticipation, despite the fact that he came nowhere near touching them. Fingers slipped beneath her blouse; the fabric bunching up against his knuckles as he dragged his hands up her back.

The silence, as he pulled the article of clothing over her head, was not quite reverential, but spoke volumes nonetheless.

He leaned in close. Kissed her on the mouth as he reached behind her.

The tiny moan of anticipation sent shock waves through his system.

Her bra came undone in one fluid snap of his fingers, and he watched her face as he ran his hand across her back and slid the straps off her shoulders.

He stared for a heartbeat - the sight of unfettered breasts distracting him for just a moment – and then maneuvered her slowly back onto the bed.

His strong hands travelled across her stomach to the waistband of her pants. Undoing the button and lowering the zipper. Enjoying the way her body arched for him as he sent his fingers sliding along the inside. Rounding her buttocks and grazing her hips as he pulled the pants down past them.

She didn't notice till he got to his feet that she'd also been divested of the scrap of silk she'd been wearing.

He stood there staring.

His eyes sweeping her body so intensely that he might as well have been touching her.

Jen propped herself up on her elbows and pulled her right knee in as she looked appraisingly at him.

When she finally spoke, her voice was low and sultry.

"Planning on joining me any time soon, Jethro?"

His answer was simply to shuck off his clothes and crawl onto the bed next to her.

Holding her tight to his body as he breathed strong emotion into her hair.

An hour or so later, he lay naked on the bed; his head raised by two pillows.

Reluctant to move.

Just wanting to see Jen as she came out fresh from the shower.

A crooked smile played across his lips as she walked towards him, shaking her head to free her hair of any remaining droplets.

"Don't move, Jethro," she said as she dropped her towel on a nearby chair.

"Wasn't planning to."

"Good. You can shower later."

She lay beside him. Rolling onto her side, and putting her leg over his as she placed her head on his shoulder.

"Guess I'd better not be gone so long next time, huh?" she said as she pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"You're here now." He adjusted his arm beneath her neck and pulled her closer as his leg pressed gently against her groin.

Jen tightened her legs slightly.

Her hand resting on his stomach as she kissed his chest gently.

"So, what's the story with the wood?" she asked with a suppressed yawn after a few moments of silence.

Jethro hesitated for a moment before saying, "the clinic called yesterday morning." Tightening his hold on her before adding, "we have three viable eggs."

It took her a few moments to wrap her head around the emotion of it all.

"You know that there are no guarantees it will take, right?" she asked slowly.

"It'll take," he said, turning her face towards his and placing a kiss on her mouth. "When you're ready, it'll take."

Jen smiled and pressed her body closer to his.

Feeling tiredness creep up on her now that there were no more pretenses to uphold.

"Thank you for leaving the light on, Jethro," she said, melting into his embrace all over again.

"Never turned it off."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Okay, so I cheated a little. Took a oneshot I had already written, tweaked it some, and inserted it. It seemed like a good fit, and I didn't feel it was necessary to include anything overly graphic. This was a story about having to make impossible decisions – not knowing if you'll come out the other end - and the fallout that comes with making those decisions. A story about the journey, not the destination. It's been more about intense emotions and things unspoken than anything else.

That's it for this one. I hope the Jibbs moments have been enough.

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed and sent messages and such.


End file.
